Poetry

bioephemera

Category archives for Poetry

Poem of the Week: Debora Greger

Under glass, a bare forest of pins held down an army of insects in ragged rows. . . –”The Expression of Emotion in Man and Insects,” by Debora Greger (read the full poem at the Atlantic)

“Association, juxtaposition, metaphor is how the poet can go further than the scientist in addressing systems. The poet can legitimately juxtapose kelp beds with junkyards. Or to get really technical, reflect the water reservoir system for a large city in the linguistic structure of repetitive water-associated words in a poem. And poets right now are…

“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to…

Poem of the Week: Fox

I made the pieces fit then took them apart then made them fit when I got tired I lay me down my little head against the flannel chicks and ducks then slept then woke then took the puzzle up my mother had another child sick unto death she needed me to fall in love with…

lullabies made of old poetry

In this TED clip, Natalie Merchant sings haunting arrangements of old poetry from her new album, Leave Your Sleep (2CD). If you have limited time, skip ahead to about 8:00 for the beautiful ee cummings poem “maggie and milly and molly and may”, followed by the gently rebellious “if no one ever marries me” by…

This poem by Rosemary Kirstein is truly a worthy successor to the classic by Wallace Stevens. (Thanks to Jen Ouellette for sharing.)

When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st, ‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,–that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’ -John Keats, “Ode on a Grecian Urn” On rereading the whole “Ode,” this…

“On Divination by Birds” I don’t need that black wind of crows kicking up from flax to tell heavy weather coming, white days to drop barricades across the interstate, against two hundred miles of trackless white. (The crows so obvious then against the miles of trackless white!) More tricky the magpies flicker and croak at…

Valentine’s Day

I look back over my life. I try to find analogies. There are none. I have longed for people before, I have loved people before. Not like this. It was not this. Give me a world, you have taken the world I was. –from “Tag” by Anne Carson read the

Apparently Winston Churchill was not the greatest poet at 15 (but then, who is? Keats churned out some horrible clunkers[1] when young). In this month’s BMJ, Angus Nicholl and colleagues call our attention to Churchill’s classically influenced poem “The Influenza”. (No, it’s not actually called “Ode to Flu” – but it might be cooler if…